Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel)

chapter Fourteen



In the Regencies Nicole loved, the heroines were always limp with satisfaction at the end of lovemaking, but she herself had never experienced that sort of ultimate pleasure. Not that she didn't like sex—she loved it. It was always good—or at least passable enough.

Sex with Grif was beyond anything she'd ever imagined. She'd screamed.

It'd been magical.

Except for the one part where he'd confessed about looking at her sketchpad. There wasn't anything she could do about it now, but it didn't mean she felt any less exposed. Except it was Grif, and he knew her better than almost anyone.

And he knew her much better now, having explored her body all night long.

Apparently she'd slept tangled in him, his legs scissored between hers, his arm draped around her, her head nestled into his shoulder. She liked it, probably more than she should. It felt good, weighty as opposed to light and insubstantial, and that worried her. It was supposed to be easy.

Actually it was incredibly easy.

She cuddled into him, and he stirred, nuzzling her shoulder. "What time do you have to be at work?" he asked, his voice husky with sleep.

She'd forgotten about reality. She wilted, wishing she could stay here forever. "At eleven."

Grif craned his neck to look at the clock on the bedside stand. "I don't think I've ever been so glad it's only nine o'clock."

She chuckled. "You never liked to wake up early in school either."

"I'm civilized." He rolled on top of her. "You'll like to stay in bed, too."

When she felt his hardness, she sighed happily. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" He lifted his head, as though scenting a challenge. "Maybe? Am I going to have to prove it?"

She sighed again as his erection touched her intimately. "I'm not sure I'll believe you until you do."

"In that case..." He scratched her neck with his raspy cheek, his hand stealing down between their bodies, all the way down to where she needed him most.

She arched up, sensitive from the night's play, and then gasped in pleasure as his fingers homed in on the perfect spot.

He lowered his head to her breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue. "We need to order room service," he murmured against her skin.

"We do?" She speared her fingers in his hair. She could care less about food, not when he was snacking on her.

"You can't go to work hungry. And you need to shower too."

She kissed down the column of his neck. "I suppose you're offering to wash my back."

"Definitely." He stood up and scooped her in his arms.

"Wait." She pointed at the bed. "We only just started."

"I know." He kissed her forehead, and then her neck. "We'll finish in the shower."

Her heart skipped with anticipation, and all she could do was nod in consent, and, later, scream some more.





They never did order room service.

Grif helped her shower and get dressed, the whole time wishing he could undress her again. He leaned against the sink as she smoothed her hair in a ponytail.

She grimaced at her reflection. "That's the best I can do."

Any better and he wasn't sure he'd be able to let her go. Despite the fact that she had nothing more than a little gloss on her lips, she was luminous. This morning her eyes sparkled with more than their usual light. The one flaw was a patch of redness that marked her neck, where his stubble had abraded her, but he even liked that. He liked knowing she wore his brand.

KT would call him pathetic.

"Next time I'll bring makeup with me," Nicole said with one last look in the mirror. She faced him. "You know, I can take a cab to work if you want to stay here longer."

"I'll take you." He kissed her glistening lips. "And later we can discuss next time."

Her eyes widened. "I didn't mean—"

"I want it, too, Nic," he assured her.

She swallowed audibly and then nodded. When she spoke, her voice was a little hoarse. "We should go."

He put his cap and sunglasses on and took her hand. "Come then."

They walked down, hand in hand. The doorman hailed them a taxi.

The cab ride was silent. He was about to ask Nicole what was going through her head when a faint strain of a melody rose in his mind. He stilled, listening, knowing from experience that it had to work itself to the surface. Forcing it would only make it more elusive. So he held onto Nicole's hand and hoped it wasn't just a fleeting hallucination.

When they arrived she faced him. "Grif—"

Before she could finish whatever she'd been about to say, he kissed her. And then because it was delicious, he kissed her again, lingering, feeling his chest fill with desire and longing that had to do with more than just sex.

Nicole melted against him, sighing, just like he'd intended. He lifted her chin. "See you after work?"

"Yes." She smiled at him and slid out of the car. She waved and headed to open the store.

He watched her and then turned to tell the taxi driver their address. But he noticed Grounds for Thought across the street, so he paid the cabbie and went to get a cup of coffee.

Putting in an order for coffee and a scone, he managed to make it to a seat in the back without a scene or anyone recognizing him. He left his hat and sunglasses on, wanting privacy.

Wanting space to think about Nicole.

It was going to be a long day without her. He wished she were sitting there with him.

Here with you.

He pulled out the notepad she'd given him and flipped to a blank page.

Here with you. He wrote the words down, humming a measure of that tune playing in his head.

The barista delivered his coffee, but he hardly noticed. More images came to him: Nicole's hair, messy on his pillow; the slide of her leg, smooth against his; her smile, adorably crooked, so slow in the night. He wrote them all down, not sure how they fit together or even if they would.

His heart beat heavily, excited, feeling a surge of creativity he hadn't experienced in so long. He was afraid to focus on it too closely—what if it vanished?

But he had a feeling it was only just reappearing, and that it'd be stronger than ever.

Because of Nicole.